Jennie
Alison plowed through Bluewater ten miles over the speed limit. Traffic today was even worse than usual. It was as if every unlicensed driver in the city had gassed up their unregistered rust buckets and taken to the roads, double-parking and cutting off law-abiding drivers with abandon.
My mother was going to kill me. She'd called me four times today, each time extracting my promise that I would be at the gala, beautiful, and on time.
The traffic insanity had apparently infiltrated the enclave. We careened through the security gate only to come to a screeching halt when Mrs. Montecito's golf cart swerved out in front of us. She had a long-standing habit of starting happy hour early, and it looked like today had been two-for-one margarita day at Bluewater's beach bar.
"Okay, I can shower, dress in two minutes, sit for hair, and do half my makeup in the car," I decided, recalculating my list.
"You almost lost an eye last time you did your makeup in the car," Alison said. "Hang on, boss."
I grabbed the handle above the door and squeezed my eyes shut while Alison jumped the curb and sped down the golf cart trail. Palm fronds and fragrant flowers whipped at the side of the Range Rover.
We were going to get arrested, and I didn't know who'd be angrier. My mother or Lisa.
Alison swerved again, flattening a saw palmetto as she plowed back onto the road, leaving Mrs. Montecito's golf cart weaving behind us.
"Alison!"
"I'm just driving like everyone else in Miami."
"You'll get us thrown out of Bluewater." I released my grip on the handle and tried to massage blood back into my fingers.
She snorted. "You own the place. You can throw everyone else out if they whine too much."
I dreaded the next town hall.
Alison slammed on the brakes in the driveway, sending a cloud of crushed seashells up into the stratosphere. I hopped out and sprinted for the door. It had been a busy day of reassuring everyone that I felt just fine and following up on all the tasks Lisa dumped on other staff members.
After plying me with lunch at my desk, She'd left to take care of things at her own offices with the promise that she'd pick me up promptly at… Oh, hell. Now.
"Tea and Crumpets will be here any second," Alison yelled after me as I shouldered through the front door.
"Stall her!" I called over my shoulder and bolted for my bathroom.
My phone rang. It was my mother.
"Mom, I can't talk right now," I said, turning the water in the shower on. I kicked my heels off across the bathroom. One landed on the tufted ottoman shaped like a daisy. The other landed between the vanities. Thank God I had very nice, organized people who cleaned up after me, otherwise I'd never find both shoes again.
"Are you ready yet? I want to see a picture of your dress."
"I'm not ready yet," I growled, yanking my shirt off over my head and kicking it in the direction of my shoes.
Shit. I was out of body wash. It had been on my shopping list.
"What do you mean you're not ready yet? You're supposed to be there in an hour!" She made it sound like I was running late for a life-saving surgery.
I grabbed a short robe from the bathroom closet and dashed out of the room.
"Traffic was bad. I'm home now and getting ready, which would go a lot faster if you'd stop calling me."
"Don't you dare be late, Jennie. I'm not posing with your father's ex-wife with both of my children conspicuously absent. What will everyone say?"
My mother's motto in life.
I found Alison and Chaeyoung in my kitchen snacking on cheese and crackers. I snagged one out of Chaeyoung's hand and stuffed it in my mouth.
"Maybe they'll say it's nice that you get along with your husband's ex-wife?" I guessed.
"Jennie, don't speak with your mouth full!"
I mimed scrubbing down my entire body.
Alison pointed at the tote bags on the kitchen counter. At least one thing had gone my way. My personal shopper had left her bounty like a magical fairy.
"Gotta go, Mom," I said, digging into the first bag and hanging up on my mother.
"Well, it's an unorthodox look. But you'll certainly have people talking," Lisa announced behind me.
"Traffic," I yelled, finding the body wash and taking off down the hall in a barefoot sprint. "Hi, Chaeyoung!"
I jumped in the shower and did the fastest wash of hair and body in human history.
Toweling off, I realized I still didn't know what I was wearing.
Back to the kitchen I went. "Dress?" I asked expectantly.
Lisa had joined the girls for snacks and what looked like a nice white wine. "In the garment bag on your bed," she said.
I snatched her glass of wine from her hand, cursed her perfectly tailored tux, and hauled ass back to my bedroom.
I shimmied into the dress, forgetting both bra and underwear. Neither would be good for the lines of the dress anyway. It wasn't one that I'd had in my closet. I would have recognized it. This was a sleek, black, off-the-shoulder gown that clung very nicely to my breasts.
"You decent, boss?" Alison called.
I had wet hair, a bare face, and an unzipped dress. "Enough."
She appeared in the bathroom doorway. "Bad news. Hair can't make it. They got stuck in traffic downtown and got rear-ended by—get this—a $250,000 Bentley."
"Shit." My hair hung, damp and limp in my face. My mother was going to murder me. "Okay, it's fine. I'll just do some kind of bun thing," I decided.
Maybe a chignon or a simple knot.
"Find me some big jewelry that will take attention away from my hair," I instructed her, turning my hair dryer on full blast.
"Lisa's already on it," she yelled over the sound.
I rolled my eyes. I was beginning to think Lisa had a fetish about pawing through my closet.
Lisa poked her head into the bathroom, holding up sapphire drop earrings to her own lobes. "Yes?"
"You're ridiculous. Yes."
My phone buzzed. It was a text from my mother.
Mom: We're leaving now. You'd better be on your way!
"Agh!"
She grinned and stepped inside. She dropped the earrings on the vanity and zipped my dress. "You know I'm not going to think about anything but you being commando under that dress all night," she teased.
"Lisa, unless you're a secret hairstylist, I need you to get the hell out of my bathroom right now," I screeched over the hum of the hairdryer.
"It would seem that once again, I'm exactly what you need." She plucked the dryer out of my hand and grabbed a brush from the drawer.
"Chair me, Alison," she called.
Alison appeared a moment later with one of the turquoise ottomans from my bedroom, a slab of cheese hanging out of her mouth.
"Cheese and cracker the boss, Alison," Lisa said, pushing me down on the stool and going to work on my hair.
"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered as she deftly dried and volumized and smoothed.
"Product?" she asked, switching the dryer off.
I pointed to the slim closet next to the sink. While she rummaged, I put on the earrings.
"Lovely," she announced.
Alison returned with a plate of cheese and crackers and a tall glass of water.
"How was your day?" I asked, stuffing the first cracker in my mouth.
"Productive," she said. She placed a comb between her teeth while she buried her hands in my hair. "Yours?"
"Same," I said, trying not to close my eyes as her fingers massaged my scalp. I wondered what it would feel like if she washed my hair.
"I think we'll do something that makes a bit of a statement," she said, swooping my hair this way and that. "Something that says badass."
Involuntarily, my lips responded in a smug smile.
I relaxed and snacked as she twisted and tucked, fingers working quickly and competently.
"How did you learn to do this?" I asked as the style began to take shape.
"After my stepfather made me give up thievery, I had to earn a living somehow. My mother was keen to keep a close eye on me. She made me work at her salon after school. I picked up a few things in the years I was there."
"A few things meaning women?" I asked.
She gave me a cat that ate the canary look in the mirror. "Perhaps. You have to admit, I'm excellent with my hands."
"I've seen you steal wallets and style hair. That is the extent of my experience with your hands."
Was I flirting with her? This was not a smart move, no matter how I played it. Encouraging Lisa would only get one of us hurt.
"Perhaps you'll experience something a little more hands-on tonight?"
"For the cameras, of course," I said.
She fluffed the hair at my crown and sprayed it.
"Not only for the cameras, love." Her eyes were a hypnotic brown in the mirror. I wanted her to press those lips to the back of my neck. To bite the skin where my neck and shoulder met. To trail her tongue over me.
I felt a rush of something delicious between my legs. "Are you this flirtatious with all your clients?"
She tucked another stray pin into place at the nape of my neck then leaned in so I could feel her breath on my shoulder. "Only you, darling Jennie," she whispered. "What do you think?"
"I think us having sex would be a huge mistake."
Amused, she laughed. "Some mistakes are worth making. But I meant your hair."
She'd styled it in a teased pompadour on top and sleek bun in the back. It was edgy, interesting. My mother would hate it.
I loved it.
"Not bad, Manoban."
"You'll want a smokey eye and a more subtle lip," she told me. "Unfortunately, I'm only good at kissing away makeup so you're on your own there."
"I'll do my face in the car," I told her, giving my reflection another pleased glance.
"Do it now. I'll get us there in time," she promised.
And for some reason, I believed her.